I have to admit that as a game I prefer football. There is something drilled into me that gets my heart racing that little bit faster for the beautiful game.
That said, watching England's national team in both sports over the past weeks has been an eye opener.
Of course, the last few weeks have been all about the rugby world cup. Early on I figured that with England's poor form and disastrous results this would be another bitterly disappointing tournament. Just another notch on the bedpost of sporting memories that goes back (for me) to the injustice meted out to England by Diego Maradona in the 86 football world cup.
But you see, that's where the story changes. The England rugby team scraped through to the quarters and then they woke up. What was astonishing about their subsequent two victories and their subsequent gutsy defence of their title in the final was that it was built out of a team effort and heroic camaraderie that I feel privileged to have watched. This was not the turnaround of a talismanic performance (though there were talismans everywhere). This was not one moment of gifted skill saving a team. Each of those victories came from 15 men giving their all for 80 minutes at a time. Their opponents sometimes showed greater skill or flair, but England were never bested for passion or courage. It is amazing how far these two attributes can take a team.
So for a life long football fan it was amazing to see a team that didn't drop their heads as soon as they went behind, that didn't rely on their one star to dig them out of a hole, whose first reaction upon defeat is not to cry out over the refereeing injustice they may (or may not) have suffered. It was the way the team played the game and handled themselves that left me feeling full of pride even though the final was lost.
When I contrast this to the inevitable, sorry capitulation of the football team against Russia on Wednesday (and in almost every tournament I have followed) I think perhaps a switch of codes may be in order.
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